Open your eyes
by Lispet
Summary: Tina's life was tough, but then came the fateful day when Berwald made her open her eyes. Mostly memories. Cracked/Fem!Finland/Sweden. T for ideologically sensitive material.


Hiya guys! Sorry I've been so inactive! I've got a ton of homework (lol jks, it's study) - And I can't believe i just said that, but anyway. I hope you like. It's a cracked!Fem!Finland/Sweden

'Cause Sweden is such a surly doctor in my eyes, and Finland has been through so much shit

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><p><strong>Open your eyes<strong>

All I can hear in the suffocating darkness is the steady in and out of your breaths; calm, slow and patient, the ticking of that clock that you are so fond of, the cogs in it whirring away like tiny insects, and the faint rustle of your dog on the foot of the bed, hoping for some sympathy and warmth.

It seems, that without being able to see anything past the faint sliver of the moon through the drawn curtains, I am more alert to everything else. How the sheets have crumpled and are digging into my thigh, how the smell of dried sweat and deodorant lingers in the air, your fingers splayed across my belly, and how my hair is tangled.

It also makes me aware to more trivial things, even if I don't take the time to acknowledge them. Such as the bone deep knowledge that I'm safe here; wrapped in promises of a better life than what I used to have. I don't feel disjointed, or isolated, like so many perceive me, sitting quietly away from society. It's my blanket that I carry everywhere. It's the blanket that I have lifted only for you, Berwald.

All of these things keep me awake and alert, eyes wide open like two cloudy blue mirrors, staring at the cluttered silhouette of the bedside table, the lamp, your glasses, a mug and a spoon. Yet even as I am so restless, I cannot force myself to take action and get up, to leave the warm haven of your arms.

Sometimes, I wonder if this is all a figment of my imagination, like so much else of my life has been, whiled away quietly in a lonely room, with only emotionless puppets for occasional company. But too many things lack the surreal-drug induced edge, so I conclude that yes, this is real, and yes; I am still me. I am still Tina.

This is a major problem when it comes to meeting new people. I can actually remember very few things in my life that haven't been so repetitive or painful that they've all blurred together. The most profound thing in my life, apart from you would be the swirling anger and betrayal that once loomed over my existence like a dark cloud, overshadowed only by the horrific and painless scars that I bear, still to this day, and only some of them weren't my fault.

It makes my stomach clench every time I dwell on all of that. An intolerant father who would beat me if I couldn't get anything right, a mother who had to turn a blind eye, and after that, abusive lover after abusive lover. And finally, when it all became too much, a cold life of self torment and abuse, for I had honestly thought that that was how people showed that they cared; through pain.

And so, the fateful day at the supermarket checkout when I was just about to leave, I bumped into the door on my way out, utterly exhausted, and tripped, my groceries that consisted of instant noodles spilling across the pavement, I suddenly realised that I was bleeding when someone started frantically checking my arm.

Then there was you, and the room, and all of those lonely nights after that lady, I should call her kind now, for I think she saved me from an eventual suicide, accidental as it would've been, after that lady took me to the hospital, and I was picked up and taken to your... facilities.

It was quite a small building, for an asylum, and it was quickly decided that I couldn't be trusted, and so I was put in isolation, and only few people could see me. People with smiling faces, plastic clipboards and pencils, and if they had to wear glasses, they only ever had plastic rims. It was all so controlled, so... rigid. I could not hurt myself, I could not _love_ myself.

And then there was you.

Your faith in me was a welcome arrow to the heart. It took me a while, but I changed for you. I did it. I broke out of my old life. The vivacity and glaring truth of the world had been like an electric shock that went right to my core, with you at the heart of it all. For the first time in nearly two decades, I saw clearly, I saw sharp, painful colour, as the world was laid out prone for me to see. I saw _you_, not as if you were a cardboard cutout like I used to see you, but as a tangible, solid, _three-dimensional_ living being.

Those first shaky steps that I took outside of my little room, my little place where I could merrily scream my throat raw, and struggle at my bonds until my muscles couldn't move, were terrifying. And it wasn't just a walk down the hallway, I made it that far before my disused muscles gave out, and then you picked me up and carried me, all the way outside into the weak sunshine, your arms tight around me, and I can still remember the very simple fact that your glasses had wire rims because you trusted me.

In your arms that day was the first place I felt that I truly belonged. Hah. That makes me laugh every time. Me, _belonging_. Scarred, damaged old me. Why would anyone want to be connected to me? But you did. You had faith, you had _something_ that I still can't place, but that first time you held my frail body tight to yours, and I could feel your heartbeat through my tight, restraining shirt, I knew that I didn't want the security of seeing the world through unfocused eyes anymore, rejecting everything that I didn't see as safe. I didn't want that anymore. It was like the weight of the entire ocean, pressing down on my shoulders, and when you sat with me, in my comfortable, safe, lonely padded room, and told me that there was more to life, and that you could help me let go, I so deeply wanted to believe you.

You told me to abandon everything that I had learnt. Every habit, _(every cut)_, every past memory, (_all that pain)_, I tried.

There's that something in _you_ and you only that broke through my pain, my suffering, my depression, for that was what it was, it was some unknown darkness within you; a magic, a frightening magic, that I did and still cling to. For such a quiet, surly doctor, you had a magic touch.

It is comfortable and safe laying here, our bodies twined, fingers linked tightly (for I never want to let you go, I never want to lose you. What if I fall apart again?), as I mull my life over.

I wonder what happens when we die? The concept frightens me now like it never has before. There's someone who cares now, someone who will cry over me. Will we be reborn? For I think that another life for me would be a cruel mercy. And then I would lose all that I have, and I would know, deep in my heart for all of my future lives, that I would never be this lucky ever again, to be given that one extra chance by you in a single life span.

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><p>So this was actually a piece of writing I did for my english class. Yep. I write fanfiction and get a 910 for it. that was the highest mark in the class. *insert praised by the gods music and light here* My teacher's such a weirdo when it comes to him reading out stuff to the class. He can't use emotion... XD

I used the poem; _You and Sarajevo, Bruce Dawe _to produce a creative piece about how lonely isolation is and how a person can flourish given a chance and a little faith. The other reference material I (heavily) used were the songs; _In my Arms_, _Just say Yes_, _Make this go on Forever_, _Open your Eyes_, _Perfect Little Secret_ and _You're all I have_, by Snow Patrol.

^ that, by the way, is the opening line to my explanation to this piece. And I did use those songs as inspiration. And go read that poem. It's beautiful and will help you understand this piece of writing more.

(Please review. I want to know if this made you cry, for that was the aim... I'm horrible, aren't I? But really, I need to know if I can evoke strong emotions... and I need to know where you think I can improve on my writing)

Lispet OUT!


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